


There's a Bun in the Oven

by krisiniess (orphan_account)



Series: SFW Works: Fanfiction [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Frisk (Undertale), Announcements, F/F, Flavor Text Narrator Chara (Undertale), Fluff, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Male Frisk (Undertale), Narrator Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Sans (Undertale), Pregnancy, Romance, Skeleton Pregnancy (Undertale), Trans Sans, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/krisiniess
Summary: * During a family-friend gathering, Toriel finds something in her oven. Needless to say, it causes some…unexpected reactions.





	There's a Bun in the Oven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoMcIntosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMcIntosh/gifts).



Laughter flutters over the table, the sounds of cutlery clinking and scraping against plates echoing around Toriel’s kitchen. Dishes stacked with food cover most of the table’s surface, some steaming hot and others cooled, though most lay bare, already devoured over the course of the evening. Everyone crowds around the display, chatting away about what they’ve been up to while they’ve been away, going off on their own adventures after reaching the surface.

It’s a family gathering, of course; celebrating Frisk’s graduation from college, or so the invitations say. Everyone has a feeling they’ll be heading back to school for another degree, what with how much Frisk loves to learn, but it never hurts to acknowledge someone’s accomplishments when they happen.

Not that most of the people here cared too much about the technicalities—they’re just happy to be together. Trying to find time on the surface to spend time together is a lot harder than they had originally anticipated.

“—and then, MK jumped onto his desk and shouted ‘Hey! I’m a dragon and I don’t need arms to kick your ass!’” Frisk pauses when a dog barks outside, chasing around puffs of snow as they fall from the sky, running around in circles and leaving pawprints in its wake. They watch the scene out of the window with a giggle, leaning against Sans, who swishes around his glass of water absently, waiting for them to finish their story. “I thought I’d have to get up and stop him from tackling the guy to the ground, but then the professor stepped in and told the presenter guy off for being a dick, then told MK to sit back down. Fight averted, but—still pretty funny that some asshole thought he’d get around with making a racist generalizing comment like that without getting called out for it.”

“Sounds stressful,” Alphys murmurs. She leans forward, pushing her glasses up to stop them from slipping down her face, saying, “D-Did the prof-professor talk to them about it after?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Frisk hums. They pause, thinking it over before nodding. “Yeah, I remember MK talking to me about it a few days later. I mean, I knew he and that other person had to stay after the rest of us left, but he didn’t tell me what happened until later. Something about ‘respecting boundaries,’ or something.”

Undyne slams her glass of wine down onto the table. “That’s bullshit, though! MK didn’t do anything wrong!”

Frisk throws their hands up in the air, “That’s what _I_ said!”

They go back and forth for a while, trading stories and cracking jokes between mouthfuls of food. Strangely, Sans remains silent, making a comment here and there but overall just staring at his glass with an unreadable expression on his face.

Frisk takes notice.

“Hey,” they nudge him with their elbow, lowering their voice so only he can hear. “You okay? You’re kinda out of it today.”

Sans jumps, meeting their gaze, his eye-lights flickering. He clears his throat. “Yeah,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m fine. Just tired, ’s all.”

“Since when are you _not_ tired?” Frisk snorts.

“Eh, you have a point. Though, I have been more exhausted lately…” He gives them a wink, face splitting into a wide grin. “Must be all the sausages I’ve been eatin’.”

Frisk’s face turns bright red. “Mm. M-Maybe.”

Leave it to Sans to make a sexual innuendo about them _at the dinner table_.

Though, the answer satisfies their curiosity, at least for now. Thinking that they’ve found the root to Sans’ problem, Frisk turns back to their food, prodding at it with their fork.

“…Actually,” Sans quips, looking away from them and off to the side, “I think I left something in the kitchen. Probably near the stove—you think you could go get it for me?”

Frisk groans, “Sans, I’m _eating_!”

“So am I! ’Sides, you’re full’a energy right now—I’m about ready to nap on the floor.”

“Sans, you better not take a nap on the floor!” Papyrus snaps. Sans flinches—must be he didn’t realize how loud he was talking. “That’s unsanitary!”

“I was exaggerating, Paps. Though, I’m sure the floor would be a lot comfier than the table…”

“Don’t you dare!”

Sans’ grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans forward, propping his hands on the edge of the table, acting as though he were about to stand up and do exactly what Papyrus is afraid of.

“Sans! You can’t sleep on the table—you’ll knock all of my food onto the floor,” Toriel calls from the kitchen. “Besides, I highly doubt Frisk would like to see their boyfriend’s bones be mixed in with the turkey.”

Sans pales. “…Point taken.” He relaxes back in his chair, everyone else breaking out into laughter.

Frisk stands, brushing their front smooth. “What is it I’m looking for?” they ask.

That earns them a shrug, “Eh. You’ll know when you find it.”

Frisk frowns.

How unhelpful.

Though, when they go to ask him for specifics, all they get is a dismissal wave and a quick “be back soon, love you” before Sans closes himself off again, poking at his food like he has been since dinner started.

Sighing, Frisk makes their way to the kitchen, shoving their hands into their pockets and making sure to look for anything that screamed “Sans” at them.

Toriel, still attending to the last of the soup boiling away on the stovetop, sees them from the corner of her eye and smiles, giving them a light pat on their head. “Greetings, Frisk, dear,” she says, voice as soft as can be despite the roaring coming from the food in front of her.

“Hi, Mom,” Frisk smiles back, holding their mother’s hand in theirs for a moment before letting go. “How’s cooking going? Do you need any help?”

“Ah, I’m fine. Thank you, though—it’s very appreciated.” Toriel hums, stirring the pot in front of her. “What brings you into the kitchen? Surely you can’t be looking for thirds—I know you have an appetite, but a human’s appetite is still much smaller than a monster’s.”

“Oh, I know that. I’m just looking for something for Sans—he said he left something in here.” Frisk looks around, searching the counter, the drawers. Nothing. “Seen anything out of place, Mom?”

Toriel frowns, humming in thought, “Not that I know of.” She pauses, taking a step back to look around the kitchen. “I did not even see him come in here, if I am being completely honest…that boyfriend of yours is quite the sneak—aha!”

Toriel suddenly reaches out, turning one of the knobs on the oven. She bends down, pulling open the oven door.

“… ‘Aha?’” Frisk repeats, raising their eyebrows.

“The oven was on,” Toriel explains. She pauses, peering into the opening and searching the ove racks. “…Oh! There’s something in here!”

After a moment of shuffling around for an ovenmit and digging around, Frisk watches as she pulls her hand out of the oven, holding something in her hand. A tiny, round roll of bread rests in the palm of her hand, barely toasted from the oven’s heat.

Frisk wrinkles their nose. “What’s _that_ doing in there?”

“Did’ja find it, Frisk?” Sans, calling from the other room.

Toriel looks at the bun in her hand with an odd look on her face, handing it to Frisk. A strange cloud shrouds her gaze as she meets theirs, saying, “Go give that to him. I will finish up with dinner.”

Frisk stares at the bread in their hands, “Uh…okay…”

This dinner just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

Giving one final glance around the kitchen and finding nothing else out of the ordinary, Frisk walks back to their seat, still holding the bread.

Sans’ eyes are on them the moment they walk into the room, the skeleton watching as they take their seat next to him. “Did’ja find it?” he asks again, leaning back in his chair and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Frisk sighs, shrugging. Despite their better judgment—considering how stupid it is that their boyfriend had them hunt down a bun, probably for a pun, gods there are days they want to kill him—they hold out the bun, “Is this it?”

The responding grin makes them more nervous than relieved, “Yup. Thanks.”

He reaches for it…then stops. Frisk mentally prepares themselves, giving a sideways glance to the others at the table, who seem to be catching on to what’s about to happen. Undyne and Alphys share a look while Papyrus, face already slipping into a grimace, opens his mouth to scold his brother for his incessant puns, when—

“What is that, anyway?”

Frisk blinks. They look at their boyfriend, taking in the innocent, curious expression on his face, then look to the roll in their hands. “…A bun?” they say carefully. “Why?”

“Where’d you find it?”

Is he serious? Is he really doing this right now?

Frowning, Frisk places the bun aside, sighing, “In the oven. Why’re you—”

“Sans, what are you doing—”

“Say that again.”

What?

Frisk meets Sans’ eyes, and, behind the innocent, wide-eyed expression he gives them, they catch a glimpse of something else: nervousness.

Sans is rarely ever nervous.

“…A bun.”

“Right.”

“In the oven…”

“Uh-huh…”

Frisk frowns, thinking the words over to themselves.

Bun in the oven. A bun in the oven. Bun.

Wait.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Holy shit.

They gasp, jumping onto their feet with a scream, “Are you kidding me? Are you—are you _serious_? For real?”

Everyone else at the table stiffens, caught off guard by their reaction. Sans, however, breaks into a giggling fit, hiding his face behind his hands.

“Oh, God, Frisk,” he says between laughs, “You had me fuckin’ worried there for a sec. I know you got a brain in there, but _damn_ , you’re _oblivious_.”

Frisk huffs. Grabbing Sans by his shoulders, they force him to look at them, excitement and serious blending together to create a very tense, very stern look on their face. “Are you playing a prank on me?” they ask. “Because if you are, I’m going to kill you.”

Sans’ laughter dies away, though his grin remains. He pushes them away slightly, shaking his head, “Nope. No pranks. Totally serious.”

That’s all they need to hear.

Frisk’s face splits into one of the widest smiles Sans has ever seen, and they run out of the room screaming on the top of their lungs, “Mom! _Mom_! Mom, did you know? Is that why you’re acting so weird? It is, isn’t it! Holy sh— _Mom_! Mom no wait don’t cry holy shit holy _shit_ —”

Sans watches them leave, snorting. “Well,” he mutters, visibly relaxing into his chair, “glad they took that well.”

Everyone remaining at the table stares at them, Frisk’s shouting in the kitchen echoing into the kitchen.

“What is going on?” Undyne asks, pointing a finger at Sans. She exchanges a look with Papyrus, who seems equally as concerned. “What was with the bread?”

“Take it you haven’t heard that saying, huh,” Sans says, a shit-eating grin in place.

Undyne goes to snap at him for the comment, words already at the tip of her tongue, when Frisk shouts from the other room:

“I’m gonna be a parent! I’m gonna have a _kid_ , oh my Gods—”

The kitchen explodes into an uproar of screaming and shock.

“What? No way—”

“Sans, you’re _pregnant_? I’m gonna be an uncle? Why didn’t you tell me! I could have prepared a room for them already—”

“O-Of _course_ , you’d find a way t-t-to announce that through a p-pun. Of course you did.”

Sans’ face, though he won’t ever admit it, flushes a bright blue. He pulls his hood up over his hood and starts to shrink, more than a little overwhelmed by the attention he’s getting. Really, if he’d have known it would cause this much of a reaction, maybe he would have taken a better route for this.

“Heh…well, you know me. I’m a man of many secrets.”

Frisk runs back into the room, skidding to a stop next to him. Sans doesn’t have enough time to react before the human gathers him up in their arms and kisses him, causing another wave of screams and cheering from their friends and family.

The human pulls away to breathe, giggling when Sans burrows into their chest, slumped over in their arms. They rest their chin on his shoulder, asking, “How long have you known?”

“’Bout a couple months,” he mumbles into their shirt.

“So that’s why you haven’t been drinking, huh?”

“And why I’m exhausted, yeah.”

Frisk hums. “Do you know what they are yet?” they ask. “Not that I care about their sex or anything like that, I’ll love them no matter what, it’d just be neat to know and stuff beforehand—”

“I get it, Frisk,” Sans raises his head enough so they can hear him clearly, the skeleton wrapping their arms around their neck. “And, uh, yeah. I do.”

“Well, what is it? Tell me—and I want a straight answer!”

“Honey, nothing about us is straight.”

Frisk fights the urge to drop him. Instead, they sit him back in his chair, the room around them starting to fall back into a quiet hush. “Please?” they blink innocently at him, trying their best to look pathetic and pleading.

Sans crosses his arms and fixes them with a “you couldn’t be playing more into this if you tried” look. He nods towards the bun, “Cut it.”

That makes them blink. “What?”

“Cut it open. You know that pudding stuff you like in your donuts? I filled it with that, but like, with the baby’s gender color thing.” Sans snorts. “I still don’t get why humans do that.”

Frisk bounces, looking between their boyfriend and the bun. He really planned this out… “Right now?” they ask.

Sans shrugs. “Eh, I don’t see why not,” he says. He glances around the rest of the room, gesturing for them to get closer, “C’mon, guys, might as well let everyone know what the baby is while we’re all here.”

Everyone settles into their seats—save for Frisk and Toriel, Frisk standing with a knife in their hand ready to cut open the bun (and thankfully, only the bun) and Toriel standing in the doorway, looking over the scene while rubbing at her eyes and smiling. Sans notices Frisk tense up for a moment, closing their eyes and muttering something unintelligible under their breath, before they cut the bread in half—

—blue and pink filling pours out and onto the plate.

Everyone tries to process this.

“…Both?” Frisk frowns, putting the knife down. They look to Sans, who tries hard not to give it away. “But—how can it be _both_?”

“Think about it,” is all he says, shrugging. “You’re a college graduate, Frisk. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

They do. It takes them a few seconds, bouncing around various different explanations in their head, before their face lights up. They tackle him to the ground, taking the dish cloth with them and causing food and silverware to clatter onto the ground. Still, despite the mess, they laugh.

“ _Twins_!”

**Author's Note:**

> wow finally using this pseud for the shipping content ive been afraid to write
> 
> anyway! hello! i write fluff sometimes
> 
> this is for my good friend jo for christmas!!! i hope you like it, jo! i worked hard on it; sorry it took a while
> 
> i have a thing for pregnancy announcements! they're really cute. 
> 
> i might do a continuation involving the babies but i dont know if that's like, set in stone or not, so don't expect it, lol. 
> 
> thanks for reading!!!


End file.
